


Sounds Good

by Friemesis (Sue_Snell)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: 5 Things, 5 Times, Adorable Frisk, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Gender-Neutral Frisk, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route - "I want to stay with you."
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 22:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11587068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sue_Snell/pseuds/Friemesis
Summary: Two skeletons, a boss monster, and a human. Five times Sans's new family worked on figuring out what to call each other.





	Sounds Good

“Sans?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know where Mom is?”

“Uh…”

That one had Sans stumped for a second, but it shouldn’t have. He did know where Toriel was, and who else did Frisk call Mom?

“She’s out gettin’ groceries.”

“Oh.”

“Hey, no need for that face. I think I saw cinnamon on the list.”

That made them smile, but they still looked a little bothered. They fidgeted with the paper in their hands.

“Did ya need somethin’?” Sans was a little bothered himself: Seriously, why did the “Mom” thing throw him for a loop just now?

Frisk flipped their paper over to show Sans what it was: Math homework. Long division. _Really_ long division, the way Frisk had done it: A couple of their answers went clear out to the edge of the page.

“Long division, huh? Guess that explains the _long_ face.”

Frisk sighed.

“Alright, alright, so this is serious business, huh? Well if you _really_ need help…” It hadn’t been long since Toriel left, so it’d be a while before she got back, and when she got back she’d wanna go straight into pie mode, and you did _not_ mess with Tori when she was in pie mode. Oh sure, _Frisk_ could get away with it, but only because they’d put on that face of theirs and call her Mom and—wait! _That_ was what got him.

Frisk only ever called her Mom to her face. When she wasn’t around they always just called her Toriel. Or, at least, they used to. Sans had always wondered about that. It’d been weird, knowing they had to be making a conscious effort to do it; it seemed so manipulative. He’d considered telling them to cut it out, but… Tori always looked so happy whenever they did it. That was what mattered.

And now it looked like they’d done it so much they forgot not to. Maybe they’d just needed time to get used to _having_ a Mom. They never had told anyone where they’d been before they climbed Mt. Ebott, but Sans got the feeling that wherever it was, no one was looking after them there.

Frisk was staring up at him expectantly. Right. Long division.

“…I might know a thing or two about numbers,” he confessed.

They bit their lip shyly. _Jeeze_ did this kid know how to work a crowd.

“It can wait, if you’re busy…” they said.

He was on the couch watching Mettaton reruns, as they could plainly see.

“Alright, enough with the puppy eyes.” He grabbed the remote and switched the TV off. “Let’s see what’cha got here.”

* * *

The bedroom was dimly-lit—the gray light of dawn just starting to seep in between the blinds on the window—and the bed was warm. The house was perfectly quiet, and for a second Sans wasn’t sure what woke him. Then he heard her muted footsteps on the carpet. Right. This was what he got for having a “sleepover” (as Papyrus called it) with Tori on a school night. She had a weird knack for waking up when she needed to without an alarm, and she always tried to get out of bed real careful so he could still sleep in, but, often as not, it was no good: He’d wake up the second he lost that comforting weight beside him on the mattress. 

He let his sockets fall back closed and tried to drift off again, but, a few seconds later, he felt a kiss on the side of his skull. His sockets blinked back open.

“Mornin’,” he murmured, voice indistinct. Even with his sockets open, he was still half asleep, floating in that dark, cozy, in-between space where everything was warm and fuzzy, like her.

“Oh!” she whispered, “I’m sorry. I did not mean to wake you.”

“Then why’d’ya kiss me?”

She giggled.

“Because I love you.”

He grinned and rolled over onto his stomach to watch her pad over to her closet, pick out a dress to wear today, slip out of her nightgown…

“Hey, Tori.”

“Yes?”

“C’mere.”

“What?”

“Stay with me.”

“I have to go to school, silly.”

“Psh. You don’t _gotta_.”

“Yes, I do ‘gotta’,” she said, voice momentarily muffled as she pulled her dress on over her head, “If I don’t, who will teach the children?”

“Frisk can do it.”

She laughed.

“That’s an interesting idea.”

“What? That kid of yours is pretty bright, y’know.”

She smiled at that, the same smile she got whenever Frisk called her Mom. _That kid of yours_. Huh. Come to think of it, that might’ve been the first time he’d said that. He made a mental note to say it more.

“They are,” she said, “But I think I will go to school anyway, just in case.”

He yawned and rolled back onto his back.

“Break my heart, why don’t’cha?” he said with a wink, holding his hands over the spot in his ribcage where it would be if he had one.

“I’ll see you this afternoon,” she said, shaking her head.

“Promise?”

“Of course!”

“Okay.”

She was halfway out the door when Sans spoke up again:

“Hey, Tori?”

“Yes, Sans?”

“Love you too.”

* * *

“Hey Dad?" 

“…nope.”

“Okay. Hey Sans?”

“Yeah?”

More math homework, but—Sans was proud to note—this time it was advanced stuff, extra credit. Frisk was getting good with numbers. Proud as he was, though, by the time they were done he felt a _little_ bad…

“Hey, look, about the ‘Dad’ thing… I mean, if you _really_ wanna…”

Frisk shook their head.

“It felt weird,” they said. Thank god.

“Heh, right?”

They left to stow their homework in their backpack, and, in the next room, Sans overheard Papyrus say, “You can call _me_ Dad if you wish!” They giggled, but didn’t take him up on it.

Also thank god.

* * *

It was Saturday morning, which meant Tori could sleep in too, but she still got out of bed long before Sans did. Funny. Days like this _he_ should be the one getting up early to go to work.

It was nice out. Lots of sunshine, but not too warm, a pleasant autumn breeze, but nothing too gusty. A perfect day to go outside, which meant a perfect day to open the hotdog stand. The hotdog stand didn’t have official hours—he knew if he ever tried to make a schedule he’d always turn up late anyway—but he did try to make it out there a few times a week, and it felt like a waste if he skipped a day like this on a weekend.

It looked like today might have to be an exception, though. There was a problem.

Sans slouched into the living room to find Tori reading in her armchair. She looked up at him and smiled.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Hey, Tori,” he said with a yawn, “I can’t find my jacket. You seen it?”

“It’s in the laundry.”

“Ah. Well. Really didn’t wanna head out without it, so I guess this whole morning’s a _wash_.”

She chuckled, eyes twinkling like she’d been waiting all morning for a joke that good.

“No need to get in a _spin cycle_ over it,” she said, “The dryer just finished running. If you get it now, it will probably still be warm.”

“Heh, cool. Thanks, Mom.”

Wait.

Wait a minute.

_No_.

He froze, praying she hadn’t noticed.

“Um…” she said.

“I am. So. Sorry.”

She laughed. It sounded forced.

“I suppose it’s fine, so long as you don’t make a habit of it.”

“I won’t. Promise. I don’t even know where that came from. Maybe we should blame that kid of yours; _they_ started this whole ‘Mom’ thing.”

She gave him a look over the top of her reading glasses. Okay, yeah, that sounded stupid out loud.

“I mean…” Sans sank down onto the sofa and pulled one knee up to his ribs. “…I dunno what I mean.”

“Sans…” Toriel closed her book and took off her reading glasses, setting both down on the end table beside her. She rose from her armchair and came over to sit next to him on the sofa.

“I really did not mind that much,” she told him gently.

“I know…” he said, but he didn’t quite believe her. She was probably just trying to make him feel better, right? Or was he just being paranoid? Heh, maybe he was just a _Freud_ of where they’d wind up if they thought about this too hard…

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, “What happened to your mother?”

Aw, jeeze. Obviously she could tell he was still rattled, but she’d pegged the wrong reason.

“It’s fine,” he said, “It was a long time ago.”

“I know, but, that doesn’t always make it easier. Especially when it’s brought up so suddenly.”

“Good point. But I’m okay, really.” He was still hugging one knee. He carefully uncurled and sat up straighter. Then, feeling like something more was needed, he added, “She woulda liked you.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. You woulda gotten along great. You kinda remind me of her sometimes, actually. Your sense of humor, I mean.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I mean, where do you think _I_ got it?” He gave a dry chuckle as the old memories popped into his head, dusting themselves off.

“Y’know, one year she got me this dumb joke book for my birthday, and I thought it was the best thing ever. I spent hours readin’ it—memorizing it, really—and every time I found a joke I _really_ liked, I’d go tell it to her, and she’d laugh. And then I’d tell it to her again, and she’d laugh again. And then the next day I’d tell it to her a few more times, and then some more the day after, and she’d still just laugh and laugh, no matter how many times she’d heard it.”

He chuckled again, shaking his head.

“I was just a kid, so, y’know, too dumb to realize she had to be faking it.”

“She probably wasn’t ‘faking it’ as much as you think,” said Toriel, “I’m sure it delighted her just to see _you_ so amused. Us moms are like that sometimes.”

“Heh, I guess.” Whoa. _Us moms_.

“Um,” said Sans, “This isn’t helping, is it?” He rubbed the back of his skull awkwardly and stared at his lap. Why’d he have to go and say all that stuff? She was just so damn easy to talk to…

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the _last_ thing you probably wanna hear after that slip is a story about how my dead mom used to laugh at my bad jokes, just like you.” He sighed, his eyes dimming. “Can we just forget this whole thing ever happened? I swear I didn’t mean to make it weirder.”

“Sans…”

She scooched closer to him and bent down to kiss the top of his skull. He tilted his skull back to look at her.

“Not that I’m complainin’, but, what was that for?”

“Because I love you, and I wouldn’t ‘just forget’ this for the world.”

“Uh… really? You’re gonna forever cherish the time I called you Mom like a doofus?”

“I’m going to cherish you telling me about your childhood.”

“Oh. Didn’t realize that stuff mattered so much to you.”

“‘That stuff’ is _you_. Of course it matters to me!”

“Fair enough. Maybe I should be a doofus more often, then.”

She giggled.

“Weren’t we blaming Frisk?” she asked, smirking.

“Heh, guess I should be _thanking_ that kid of ours.”

Tori chuckled for a second, but then suddenly cut herself off with a gasp. She stared down at Sans, eyes wide and watery.

“Uh, somethin’ wron— _oof!_ ”

Next thing Sans knew, her arms were wrapped tight around him, squeezing so hard it’d knock the air out of him, if he had lungs.

“No, nothing is wrong,” she whispered. She held him so close he felt her heartbeat. “You’re right. Perhaps you should thank that child of _ours_.”

* * *

The four of them were eating dinner: Pasta ( _Not_ spaghetti, but those little bowtie-shaped ones. Tori never stepped on Papyrus’s turf.) with veggies and some kind of green sauce that _looked_ a little mysterious but _tasted_ amazing. Even so, it was hard to focus on dinner when they could all smell dessert cooling on the kitchen counter.

“This sauce is delicious, your highness!” Papyrus declared, “Do you think it might work on other pastas? Say… spaghetti?”

“I’d be happy to teach you the recipe,” Tori said with a smile, “And how many times do I have to tell you? ‘Toriel’ is fine.”

“Of course, your highn—oh.”

She laughed as Papyrus took a bashful sip of milk.

“Mom?”

“Yes, dear?” She turned to Frisk.

“Um, is the pie cool enough yet?”

Sans snorted, toying with an empty ketchup bottle. Smooth one.

“It is,” Tori said, “But I think you should finish what’s on your plate first.”

Frisk turned to give Sans an imploring look.

“Don’t look at me, kid. I’m with your mom on this one.”

“Papyrus has finished _his_ plate,” Tori pointed out, “So he may have the first slice, if he wants it.”

“Really? Wowie!” Papyrus cried, “Thanks, Mom!”

Oh, come on.

“…dude,” said Sans.

“What?” said Papyrus.

“ _No_.”

“‘No’ what?”

“ _I_ have no problem with it,” said Tori with a smirk. Frisk giggled.

“What did I do to deserve this?” Sans muttered.

“I’m confused!” Papyrus announced.

Tori laughed, then got up to get him his promised slice of pie. Papyrus was still confused, but Tori looked happy. That was what mattered.


End file.
